Exploring the Cosmos
by Starscream's Mishap
Summary: Michael McConnohie always describes this poor underutilized Autobot as "lonely." Motormaster sees something else. Who's really in control of this imprisonment, though? (Based on a twitter interview.)
1. Chapter 1

He had been warned MULTIPLE TIMES to watch out, to keep his distance to avoid being detected, to PAY ATTENTION.

Cosmos did not.

He crash-landed this time into the sand, smoking and on fire and feeling everything burn up.

Above all of the pain and fear was the sound of Motormaster's laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

He had no idea when it had started.

It was a curse.

He had little dots of memories after his creation of recognizing his obsession: the arch of the hubcap, the smell of rubber, the feel of the ridges of the tread, all made him feel weak, dizzy, elated, shameful, ebullient, turbulent, light-headed. They were all around him all the time - foreign, exotic, dirty.

"Okayyyy, enough playing with the tires," many an Autobot would say, uncurling his fingers away and making him focus on some other part that THEY deemed 'acceptable.'

Gears understood. "There is NOTHING to be ashamed about," he snarled, uploading about 50+ carefully cut-out car magazine scraps, scanned to Teltraan-1 and combined into one .zip drive.

"Then why won't you drive over me?" Cosmos begged mournfully.

"I will..." he avoided optic contact as he said it, voice trailing out a little. "...I just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't!" Cosmos predicted.

"I will," Gears promised, grinning slightly.

"ooooh..." Cosmos felt his altitude dip at that.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stop it! You're supposed to be putting OUT the fire, not BURYING him!"

"Since when? He's as good as gone!"

"No!" Motormaster shoved Dead End out of the way and greedily pulled the still-smoking Autobot spaceship hull out of the hole in the sand. The Sahara was NOTHING like the Mojave and they'd been trying to keep all of the dust out of their inner workings for far too long. "We need his parts!"

Cosmos' body wracked with spasms and odd gestures that indicated that there was life in him yet. Then he found his voice. "Mine are incompatible with yours!"

"Aw, slag, he still functions!" Motormaster threw him as far as he could.

Breakdown watched him fly. "You didn't want to try to crack his codifier?"

"SLAG! Wildrider! FETCH!"

Grumbling, he went to comply.


	4. Chapter 4

Optimus and Ironhide sat him down in Prime's office.

"Cosmos...there have been...some..."

"Complaints?" There always were. It was why he never told anyone about his preferences. How they found out, he had no idea. He left Autobots alone. He respected their privacy and their space. He didn't bend over to sniff the freshly burned rubber on the pavement, no matter how hard he broke out into a coolant sweat at the temptation. "What have I done wrong?"

Optimus shook his head. "I'm sorry. You just...make the others uncomfortable."

Ironhide cut in. "Shoot, son, ah don't even know what it ees, but ya just scare the bots! Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, neither."

True. He just didn't fit in anywhere. At all. Ever. He felt the shame and guilt creep up on him again. "I still want to help."

"You will," Optimus reassured him, glancing at Ironhide again. "We're going on a mission to find more energy, soon. It would help to have a scout find us viable planets first. " He nodded to Ironhide, who stood up and pointed to a quadrant.

"We'd lahk ya to start heere-"


	5. Chapter 5

There wasn't a whole lot they could do with him. Torture wasted resources, he was RIGHT about the parts incompatibility, the codifier was _literally_ cracked - therefore useless, and he didn't have a whole lot of fuel, either. Maybe they should have him radio Optimus so that they could get a ransom out of him.

Mortormaster refused to initiate negotiations. If there was one optic set he couldn't meet, it was Optimus Prime's, and they knew why. Drag Strip laughed himself sick at the memory and was therefore pressed into service.

Gears answered the call. Drag Strip stumbled all over himself. "We have-your-um-spaceship. We want energon."

"Oh really," Gears replied. "What makes you think we want him back?"

Motormaster cut in, now that he knew with whom he was dealing. "Cut the slag, slag-sucker! You 'bots always use that tactic and it won't work on us! Fifty cubes for Cosmic-"

"-Cosmos-" the being on the ground interrupted, still muffled due to being in vehicle mode.

He got a kick for his trouble. "Shut up!"

"Yes, master."

They didn't catch that. "Tell your boss to give us a buzz when you're ready to talk instead of bluff."

"He'll say the same thing," he purred, before cutting off. "And Cosmos'd better be in SHOWROOM CONDITION if we _do_ happen to change our minds."

Frustrated, Motormaster kicked Cosmos again. The spaceship shook a little. "Transform!"

He complied. Slowly. It sounded like it hurt. They had nothing to repair him with, no energon, not even water to keep their engines cool. The Stunticons stood around him, arguing what to do, as he sat in the sand like a toddler in a kiddie pool.

When he got bored of their buzzing hostilities, he looked over his data to figure out where the latest and greatest aquifer extraction units might be. Sudan didn't have very many. If at all. Libya was a better choice. How to get them in that direction...

He rolled himself to his feet, walked past their wildly gesticulating arms, and started running in the direction the nearest oasis he could find in his database.

"HEY!"


	6. Chapter 6

*plunk*

He had called him in to talk about reconnaissance assignments. Why did Cosmos just put a new bottle of polish on his desk?

Not _new_ , not in the sense of just-placed on a store shelf, factory-fresh and shrink-wrapped. It was, however, _unopened._ A rare prize.

"Grade JP072305, circa year 8792969907." Cosmos sat, even though Ultra Magnus had not bidden him to.

"It looks nice." Ultra Magnus still didn't follow. Business matters called. "Could you get it off my desk, please? We need to start."

Cosmos shook his head. "It's for you."

Of all the people on this planet who loved vanity products, Ultra Magnus was the last one anyone would assume would appreciate this type of gift. There was also the assumption of what giving gifts meant in the Autobot community-Ultra Magnus did not think of his underling that way. He'd better curtail this quickly and politely. "Well, thank you, Cosmos, but I'm really not that type of mech."

Cosmos' hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Not _for_ you, for you. For you to _give to Tracks_."

Silence. Who knew Ultra Magnus' optics could get so large?

Cosmos sighed. "He's not going to come to you and you can't just go up to him, so you have to come up with a way to make him think that it's _his_ idea." His clenched fist opened in a fanning motion as he waved at the can of polish. "Tell him that some underling gave it to you, you have no idea what to do with it, get him to suggest _putting_ it on you - an arm or something - tell him it doesn't feel right, then get him to suggest _putting it on him_."

How is it possible for those optics to get **larger**?

"This is not an appropriate discussion to be having with a commanding officer."

He's not going to make it easy. "Or just give it to him, whatever gets him in this office. You're not going to be able to hide your feelings for him much longer, it's starting to become noticeable."

Said optics were now BRIGHT luminous blue. His head started jerking left to right in a frightened shake. "Notice-I-how-not..." Said shaking stopped to train on the smaller Autobot. "You know?"

Nod. "Yes. I'm a spy. I see things."

His hands were still frozen to the datapad he'd been clutching when Cosmos had revealed his big secret but they tightened up quickly, drawing the pad to his chest. "Who else knows?"

Shrug. "Nobody has said anything." Tracks knew. Guessing from his sidelong glances at Ultra Magnus, he knew and wanted to do something, but was just as clueless on how to proceed as the commanding officer in front of him.

"But _you_ know."

Oh, for the love of tires. "You were about to assign me to some corner of the galaxy anyway. Who am I going to tell, even if I wanted to? But before I left, I thought-"

"You thought wrong!" Ultra Magnus placed the data pad down and shoved the polish bottle towards Cosmos. "I don't need this for your twisted little game."

Once again, his reputation reared its ugly head. Cosmos decided that being blunt was working SO WELL, he may as well go full in. "He likes you, too."

"That-that's not the point!" His white hand fluttered to the top of his helmet, covering his optics, that were still enormous. They were dimming. "This is NOT an appropriate subject of discussion!"

"Ultra Magnus...sir...I don't know how else you think you'll get him. With all due respect...he's waiting. Since you can't and won't take him, then lure him in."

He stood up and paced towards his giant wall map of the Cybertronian galaxy, muttering. "This is insane, the very idea, what does-" He kept glancing at the bottle on his desk.

Cosmos stood up. "Radio me the coordinates you were going to send me to, I'll look it up myself."

That woke him up. "No, Cosmos, I-Let's get this covered." He took the polish and shoved it into a desk drawer. It slammed shut and as if a switch had been flipped, Ultra Magnus was back to being commanding officer. "Now, we found a moon in-"

He'd better give TRACKS a nudge, then. Ultra Magnus was obviously not going to do anything. So much for having a bargaining tool to get his own quarters.


	7. Chapter 7

That little Autobot could RUN. They caught him eventually. Shook out his reasons for running - to an oasis where water would cool them down and oh, look! it just so happened to be under the flight path of air traffic from Cairo to Douala and MMMMM Jet fuel! A few hostage trades later and they had repairs, energon, and had successfully moved to another hiding place without a peep from either the Autobots or the Decepticons.

Stupid Cosmos. Led them right to it all. Motormaster was so incredulous over this Autobot's carelessness he made him build him a throne. A comfortable one, too.

"Do you like it, Master?"

He didn't even look up from the energon he was sipping. "MOTORmaster."

"Sorry, Motormaster." He bowed his head and waited for further orders, hands folded in front of him.

"Now...hmmm..."

"Shall I be your footrest, MotorMASTER?" He said "Motor" very softly.

"Shut up, I'm thinking." They really should torture him again. He'd already begged them not to run him over. "Dead End, Wildrider, I got an idea!"

They were bathing in the oasis. "What?" they radioed back.

"Let's bury the little moron up to his head!"

"Nah," they replied.

"Then pound his face in with our wheels!"

"Nah," they replied. Cosmos' optics lit up.

"No, not that! Please!"

This idea sounded better by the second. "Shut up. When we're done with you, you'll wash my wheels."

"NOOO!"

Motormaster grabbed him up and tucked him under an arm. "And I'll make you thank me for it."

Cosmos was glad he didn't have a mouth. The grin would give it away.


	8. Chapter 8

He'd begged and begged and begged, but Nova wouldn't do it.

She laughed at his request to drive over him. "You are pathetic, you know that?" She'd shoved him away, cackling contemptuously. "Look at you, on the floor, pleading for me to treat you like a flesh creature!"

"Please," he moaned. "I know I don't deserve it, I'm such a piece of slag, PLEASE."

"You ARE a piece of slag!" She stepped away from his fumbling fingers trying to catch her, but another thought caught her instead. "Lay on the ground."

He was already halfway there. It didn't take much to be on his back. "Yes, ma'am."

She transformed. "Hold still."

He could barely control his whimper of anticipation.

Nova revved up her engine, making more and more noise. Cosmos tried to keep from expecting her to transform back and laugh at him some more. Instead, she moved forward. He shook. The urge pounded at him, pushed him, demanding action. Demanding his needs met.

Slowly, slooooooowly, Nova inched her car body towards him. He could smell the tires and felt weak.

As gently and as carefully as possible, she rolled a tire onto his chest, heard something crack, and freaked out. "NO! no! Stay there stay there!" Cosmos' hands once again scrambled to grab the tire, to hold it in place. "I'm all right!" He could bear more weight than anyone knew.

She'd already returned to robot form, struggling out of his grip. "This is too weird!" she cried, crawling away and dashing for the door. "Leave me alone!"

With that the door slammed and all became quiet again.


	9. Chapter 9

By the third time they'd all driven over him in the soft sand, Breakdown started feeling his usual unease.

By the fifth time, Wildrider said he didn't want to do it anymore.

By the seventh time, Dead End joined the other two in declaring that he'd sit this round out.

Drag Strip had no intention of stopping. Ever. He'd beat them all, ESPECIALLY if it got that little Autobot ground into dust. An hour into it, though, it had gotten boring. Plus, the little green mech seemed to not be in any pain whatsoever, to the point that the little alarm bell that had gone off in Breakdown's processor was ringing in his.

"Is that all you've got?" Cosmos demanded, optics bright and entire body shaking. "You all feel like nothing!"

"NOTHING!?" Motormaster took great umbrage at this. "Let's see how you like THIS!" His front tires eased over Cosmos and he killed the engine. "Feel THAT, you little slagger! Smell those nasty tires up close!"

"Yes, motorMASTER," Cosmos whimpered.

Wildrider felt a chill invade his entire body. "This...isn't right." Why hadn't he tried to escape again? They'd done basic repairs, to keep him functional, and he'd already proven he could make an exit and take care of himself. It wasn't their firepower that was keeping him here. The whole thing made Wildrider anxious.

A mild blue light came out of the ground where the Autobot struggled/fingered the truck's tire bolt holes, flashing briefly. Their worries confirmed.

"Oh, no!" Breakdown moaned, brushing himself off as though that would get rid of the revelation. "We have a freak on our hands."

*shudder*

Dead End and Drag Strip laughed. "Eh, so what?" Dead End sneered. "Megatron's bigger."

"Yeah, but we don't have to WATCH that!"

"Just relive it when we form Menasor."

"Ugh, Dead End, I did NOT need that reminder!" Wildrider motioned towards the maniacally cackling Motormaster, who was yelling obscenities at what was below his wheels, and the Autobot humbly agreeing with him. "Do you want to relive THIS?"

All four of them walked away, towards the oasis, suddenly desiring another bath.


	10. Chapter 10

Omega Supreme didn't have any desire.

He was quiet. Did his job. Sought Cosmos with the same passion one would have for filling up a gas tank when there's still a good five gallons left. Cosmos told him nothing. The Autobot base buzzed about it but they all knew Cosmos wasn't quite the same as they were, so they figured that this was another one of his peculiarities.

It was as silent a relationship as one could have. All Omega cared about was revenge, and hearing him talk about it day in and day out got boring quickly. They ended up playing a lot of radio - any country, any place.

Cosmos mostly liked North American Radio. Omega preferred Israeli. It was a holdover from being stationed in the Middle East for so long. Who knows, it just so happened that Omega wouldn't put up with anything Cosmos liked for long periods of time. He was a pushy giant.

It might be why they eventually went their separate ways. As Whitney used to say "I'd rather be alone than unhappy." Omega was downright impossible to get along with, and it seemed to be a deep commentary on Cosmos' general incompatibility with others that THIS was the only type of machine who found him attractive...and it still didn't work out.

He spent a lot of time alone as it was. It was probably better this way.


	11. Chapter 11

The autumn nights in the desert were uncomfortable. Hot arid winds now blew colder, with no sun to heat them. Motormaster shivered a little. Being here long enough got him used to the daytime/nighttime temperature changes, but they were now closer to the ocean - and humidity - and farther into the year than before, it being fall now, not spring as when they'd been banished. He shouldn't feel the cold, yet his plating did - for now.

The music was low enough to be heard but not interrupt his thoughts as he stared at the blue thumb casing in his hand. Eventually, he DID hear is and decided to investigate. Subspacing the thumb casing, Motormaster went over to the other side of the dune where the prisoner was forced to watch over their energon reserves, listening to his playlist as the wind blew up the rapidly cooling sands.

 _Satellite in my eyes_

 _Like a diamond in the sky_

 _How I wonder_

 _Satellite strung from the moon_

 _And the world your balloon_

 _Peeping Tom for the mother station_

His optics were a far weaker blue than the intense brilliance of the energon cubes, which at the moment were a children's toy-aisle pink. They were still easily detected when raised expectantly to meet Motormaster's red.

A silent, giant mass in comparison to the far smaller Autobot, he didn't feel the need to say anything as the guitar notes pinged away and began fading. Cosmos had begun to shake, like a Guinea Pigatron about to be devoured. Motormaster waited for that song to end. But then another came up.

 _I know that you don't_

 _Know that I know what you know_

 _We've got secrets between us that_

 _Nobody else would believe if we told them_

 _So let the stars align_

 _And let the water make wine 'cause_

 _Broken souls will become whole tonight, oh tonight_

 _We know it's right so_

 _Lift your eyes and let me in_

 _'Cause baby I'm an alien like you_

 _Would you ever wake at night and realize_

 _The reason why you knew me then_

 _Is maybe I'm an alien too_

 _Would you ever let me be an alien with you_

"Shut it off!" Dead End demanded. He was the only one nearby at the moment.

Motormaster twisted his head towards the inert car. "Cut your vocalizer before I **rip** it out!"

Wildrider was nearby, too, having melted into the dark dunes around them and until now unnoticed. "I'm getting sick of this! Why can't we kill him?"

"We will when _**I**_ say so!" He glanced back down at the trembling minibot below him. "Turn it down," the truck commanded. Cosmos complied.

He wanted to hear more. So he sat down, took a cube, and offered some to his prisoner.

 _And hey there spaceman_

 _Something about the way you move_

 _Night skies and fireflies that fly so peacefully_

 _Me, I've been running round, tired of moving all around_

 _And where you stand is where I shoulda been._

Too much silence, conversation-wise. Cosmos should be afraid of him. Motormaster didn't see any more trembling. "You did a terrible job on my wheels."

"Yes, master."

He didn't correct him.

"You'll have to redo them."

"Yes, master."

He felt his intakes hitch. It shouldn't excite him this much to hear that word. It WAS a part of his name, after all.

"But not tonight."

"No, master?"

"MOTORmaster, you Deceptitraan." He wanted to hit him, but couldn't bring his arm up to do anything but put it around the tiny being and pull him closer.

Cosmos swallowed his energon carefully. "Yes, Motormaster."

 _A spaceship landed by the mall_

 _There was a big parade, everybody got laid_

 _And they burned all the books and the Chevrolets_

 _They grow so fast they never crawl_

 _If you get tired of satellite flyers_

 _And fame has let you down_

 _Under the wire and over the moon_

 _I'm around_

Breakdown radioed in to let them all know that Optimus Prime was going after Megatron in the Arctic, according to Laserbeak. It had been genius to get on his good side. Also, to offer a cut of their energon. "Fiercely loyal," his tailpipe!

Cosmos remained under his arm, not saying anything, not doing anything, just being little and cute and all Motormaster's. "One more song, then you turn it off."

"Yes, motorMASTER."

 ** _If I can't save you_**

 ** _I'm sure no one will_**

 ** _But I'll never hurt you_**

 ** _If you play along_**

 ** _Hand me the reigns and_**

 ** _I'll steer us through the sunshine_**

 ** _There's only one problem though_**

 ** _Never done this before, never done this before_**

 ** _Hey there, friendly young spaceman_**

 ** _Are they laughing at you?_**

 ** _You know, I can't understand why you don't get along_**

 ** _If you could just see that you're wonderful_**

 ** _They'd think you're wonderful too_**

 ** _I'll sit by your side and I'll help you along_**

 ** _Hey, friendly young spaceman_**

 ** _Just a flash on my radar_**

 ** _Falling from space, man?_**

 ** _I believe in you_**

 ** _Are you the star that I wished upon_**

 ** _Or a flash on my radar?_**

 ** _Hey there, lonely young spaceman_**

 ** _Are you looking for someone?_**

"Turn it off," Motormaster asserted. Cosmos assented.

It was a weird feeling, holding this mini-bot. Feeling his orange-peel paint job, nicked and dented from abuse and space junk, hearing his inner -mechanisms? No, wait, machinations - maybe the first...English was still slightly foreign to Stunticons...His inner workings...that's better. Cosmos, like the other Decepticons, could fly. Yet he was an Autobot. He must know what it's like to be the odd one out. The small bot sat perfectly still, letting Motormaster's fingers explore him.

"Why are you still here, mini-bot?"

"I am your prisoner, motorMASTER," Cosmos replied, trying to keep the urging out of his vocalizer. "To be rolled over and make your footrest and to wash your wheels and to be laughed at and humiliated." The blue of his optics was glowing around his own body as he said it, making a chilly *swish* hit parts of Motormaster's plating. The energy field flitted with dancing streaks, like fingers on a piano keyboard, tapping at him. They reverberated a little.

He felt his own energy field move, swirling and changing his equilibrium, making him dizzy. "Correct. I will do all of those things...when you have been a good prisoner and stand guard over the energon." He stood up, reluctantly letting go of the tingling bot as he did it. "But you've failed. You allowed ME to get some." He struck Cosmos as hard as he could, sneering over him. "Bad prisoner. When I'm done recharging, you'll wash my wheels AND face my wrath."

The blue intensified. "Yes, master."

"MOTORmaster!" He stomped away, trying to regulate his air intake before his excitement got the better of him.

"Yes, Motormaster. Thank you, Motormaster. Good night, Motormaster." Cosmos' blue started sending tendrils out of his body. Motormaster saw it and shivered, a smile slipping upward.

In the chilly night time moonlight, Wildrider shuddered for what seemed like the hundredth time. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.


	12. Chapter 12

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sat down in front of Prowl. "We wanna move our room."

Prowl was just as direct. "No."

"Cosmos is creeping us out."

"Cosmos has done nothing out of the ordinary."

Sunstreaker had four levels of Attractive Scowl. This was Level Two. "He plays his crappy music all the time."

The other Lamborghini had a very charming upturn of his lips that made Sunstreaker's scowls all the more sexy. "It always smells like rubber in his room and he has pictures of tires all over and he's always walking around outside in the hallway, staring at us and it's _suuuuuper creeeeeeepy..."_ Sideswipe stuck his arms out like the Autobots did when they played monsters in that movie Hoist had starred in, wiggling his fingers at the same time.

Prowl did not smile OR scowl back. "He's never there. You have to have a noise buffer between your room and everyone else's." The Autobot dorms were VERY close together and did not have a whole lot of space or privacy. Prowl was not demanding anything from these two that any other Autobot had to tolerate. They were being Prima Donnas.

The yellow one sank to Level Three. "We don't like it."

"He's really gross."

"He keeps staring at my wheels."

"He smells funny."

"We're going to complain to Optimus if he keeps creeping us out."

"Yeah."

Level Three...ish. That one involved a bit of a squint. "Or if I keep finding my polish missing."

Curt Nod #37. "Duly noted. Dismissed."

Both twins glanced behind Prowl, as though waiting for a confirmation nod from Jazz. Prowl didn't lose patience but he did emphasize his repeated "Dismissed!" with more volume.

Jazz watched their treasured and much talked-about rear ends disappear and held back his appreciative whistle until the door shut behind them. "Remind me again why you talked me out of getting them in for a foursome?"

"Because if they think COSMOS is 'really gross' (does that mean what I think it does: he's grotesque?) how would they react to "share me and the 'bot you hate with your brother?" Something tells me that it wouldn't go over very well."

Jazz laughed. "Fiiiine. BE arbitrary with your assumptions of someone's sexual mores," he teased, kissing Prowl on the shoulder before easing his way towards the door.

"You _know_ that Sunstreaker would spend the whole time looking at the mirror," Prowl reminded him.

Jazz laughed even harder as the door clicked shut.


	13. Chapter 13

The sonic boom, of course, had been an adequate tip-off.

Skyfire was never a subtle being. Neither were Brawn, Ironhide, Cliffjumper, Bluestreak, or those obnoxiously perfect twins. They landed in the middle of their sand dune like a barrage of meteors hitting a moon, transforming noisily, crashing loudly, yelling thunderously, flashing lights as though this were a rave, and firing at whatever they wanted to. Motormaster jumped up, grabbed some cubes, and rolled for it.

Half a mile later, all five of them were behind another dune, regrouped and ready to go back. Motormaster had just realized that he'd not left Cosmos behind, he'd grabbed him with the cubes and thrown him into his trailer. That meant the Autobots would be upon them NOW-

*BOOM*

"Slaggit!" A small brown Brawn was on his shoulders, trying to pry his arms full of prisoner open.

Breakdown retaliated with a large wave of vibrations that had everyone stagger to the ground, gasping as their circuits started up again. Motormaster reached one hand for his blaster, only for it to be stomped down by a perfect yellow foot and HELD THERE.

Cosmos...

Clinging to him like a baby monkey, kicking Sideswipe hard enough to knock away _his_ perpetual onslaught of grabbing, both red and green Autobots were swearing enough to terrify anyone. "PRIMUS FRAGGIT, LET ME GO!"

"GET OVER HERE, YOU CREEPY LITTLE SLAGGER! WE'RE RESCUING YOU!"

Motormaster's only free appendage had Cosmos' vise-gripped hand pulling away, and then Cliffjumper came out of right field and kicked it hard. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

They had him, they jumped away, dashing far enough and leaping into Skyfire before anything could be done, shooting behind them as fast as possible to keep the Stunticons pinned around the bottom of that dune.

*BOOM*

When the winds returned to normal, they assessed damage and saw that their energon cubes were gone. Motormaster sunk to his knees.

Wildrider turned back to all four of them, screaming. "I'VE HAD IT! I **QUIT**! I'm going back to Megatron!"

Motormaster said nothing. Watched him leave. Pounded his fists into the sand. Watched his teammates drift away.


	14. Chapter 14

Optimus had been pacing the hallway outside of the medical facility, waiting for Smokescreen to come out. He had a long wait. When Smokey finally came out, he gravely shook his head and motioned for Prime to follow him to his office. Prime shook his head even more gravely and pointed to HIS.

Smokescreen already knew the drill: Optimus liked to hear serious news in his own territory, where he could stare at his security objects while struggling to reach a decision.

"Cosmos has had quite an experience."

Optimus was staring at his shelf when he realized that the heart-shaped rock Grimlock had given him wasn't there anymore. Did he put it somewhere else? He glanced at his desk. It was spotless. Where could it have gone? He wanted to hold it. His hands ached to hold it. He had to hold the blaster instead. Starscream was right; it needed a larger trigger. Wait, Smokescreen was still talking.

"-so while we sort through his Post Traumatic Stress I recommend I have a few sessions with him to get him to feel more comfortable."

Optimus nodded. "Of course."

"He does not agree with me."

This blaster didn't work. It never did, as a weapon. It didn't work in this capacity, either. It usually did. Where was the rock? Should he open some drawers or pay attention to Smokescreen?

"Why doesn't he?"

"He says he feels fine, that they didn't hurt him, that they treated him well - and his medical records show that the Stunticons did a decent repair job after shooting him down-"

"I'm glad Gears answered the radio call," Optimus interrupted, peeking into his top desk drawer surreptitiously. Where did it go? "He puts the fear of Primus into them every time."

Smokescreen realized that he'd lost his audience, so his prepared attack was pointless. "I agree with him."

Optimus had run out of drawers. "I beg your pardon?"

"He told me that they were so easily manipulated that he...well, it was the best time he'd ever had being captured!"

Optimus chuckled. "He didn't get any valuable information out of them, though."

"He got the Karbomian and Libyan governments to talk to each other. Finally. I'd say that's a pretty big deal."

Optimus laughed again. "So what you're saying is that he's fine, nobody got hurt, and that it's all right to let him get back to work?"

Smokescreen made the so-so gesture. "I'm saying yes, he's fine. I'm also saying that his interference kept the Stunticons from causing trouble. I haven't said yet but I think that he should go back to spying on the Stunticons."

Optimus stared. His hands twitched. "Blast it all! JAZZ! PROWL! Get in here!"

Both filed in. Smokescreen was asked to repeat his analysis. Jazz's visor did its little wink. Prowl's expression did not change.

"Well? What do you think?" Optimus demanded.

"I think that we should follow our resident psychologist's professional assessment," Prowl enunciated carefully.

"I think Smokey's blowing smoke," Jazz replied, after a LONG glance at his partner. "He just doesn't want to deal with Cosmos' weirdness."

Smokescreen simmered. Jazz was getting on his last nerve. "I am more than happy to work with Cosmos on whatever is bothering him; but nothing is bothering him."

Optimus had been staring at his wall, considering his statue of Elita. "I've heard enough. Smokescreen, if you believe that Cosmos is ready to continue his assignments, then I agree. Give him the weekend off, do a final analysis on Monday, and if clear send him back out Tuesday."

"Is he going back to spying on the Stunticons? That would be unnerving for them, seeing that they didn't rattle him at all."

"Really?" Jazz interrupted, suspicious.

"Yes, really," Smokescreen shot back. He hadn't been able to resist and a slight cough from Prowl reminded him to reign in his emotions. He addressed his leader instead. "They're still causing mischief in the desert. They should be monitored."

He almost THREW Elita back on the shelf. _Where was that heart_? His optic caught the gleam of the newer casing on his thumb, where an overly emotional Stunticon had once clipped it off, and felt his spark soften, changing his mind. "...Affirmative, we should be keeping a close watch on them, though perhaps he's learned his lesson on keeping a safe distance. Smokescreen, Jazz, Prowl, thank you. All of you may leave."

Smokescreen let his higher-ranked officers depart first, waiting for them to silently file out where they would, no doubt, walk away to argue over this once they were alone. He wanted no part of it.

Gears and Cosmos were at Teletraan-1, looking over some satellite footage. Cosmos looked at him expectantly,Gears with a confident nod.

"I believe you can start monitoring Motormaster's misbehavior on Tuesday," the Datsun announced quietly. Alliteration is nice.

Cosmos gave him a high five. "You are the best shrink ever!" He even hugged him.

Smokescreen patted his back. "You have no idea how I live for that kind of praise."

Gears snorted, gesturing at the television program he'd been looking for, as the opening credits rolled. "Yeah, yeah, back to work, you two."

 _Magnum, PI_ for the win!


End file.
